Raison d’être

If I were devastated by your leaving,
I wouldn’t be turning out sonnets. No,
I’d be in severe mourning, head held low,
Lost totally in my despair, and grieving
Ceaselessly, my hollowed-out heart heaving.
Instead, I’m rhyming — Oh, so pale moon, glow!
You claim I’ve put together a fine show;
But nothing heals like what I’ve been achieving.

Your thieving of their love has broken men,
But not this man; I have this poetry,
This endless challenge, love, catastrophe,
My necessary link between now, then,
And everything I hope to try again.
The future beckons, understandably.